Rewriting Your Story
by LifeIsAVerb
Summary: REWRITE of '(Original) Rewriting Your Story' M comes crashing into the lives of everyone in Wammy's House. Our favorite detective and his successors don't know what to make of her, but one thing's for sure: she's changing everything that was to be their fate... but for the better?
1. Chapter 1 - Going To Sleep?

**Author's Note:** That's right, everybody, **_I'M BACK!_** First of all, I must apologize for how much time I've had to spend away. I appreciate all of your support and that you've all stuck with M! As an apology gift, you now have: _a rewrite & future chapters ahead!_ I didn't drastically change the plot, but _definitely_ reread. Remember, the tumblr account **rewritinganime** is where I post chapters as well as images _(__***NOTE: if you want to do some fanart, I can post it to the chapters!__)_ As a warning, there will probably not be a set schedule for posting chapters since things are still unpredictable; therefore, just keep your eyes open for the next chapter posts.

***I DO NOT own Death Note or it's characters, only my OCs.***

**Chapter 1****- Going To Sleep?**

I sigh as I place my pen down on the table in front of my and lean away, reaching my hands back to reclip my long reddish-brown hair back up into a firm twist. My auburn bangs hang in my face, but I've grown so accustomed to them that they simply don't hinder me anymore. I had been commissioned to design a tattoo for one of my best friends, which I didn't mind at the time. _However,_ I flip my black iPhone towards me and click on the display. Due to then lateness of the hour and the fatigue in my eyes, the normally dim light from the device seems to be intent on sapping any essence of functionality out of my retinas. The screen reads 2 AM, _I've clearly gone overboard once again._ Looking back at the piece, I decide that it was worth it.

Working all day, I had managed to get it all drawn, the rest of my time spent adding line weight with ink. I crack my knuckles before carefully laying my ink-stained fingers on either side of the paper, making sure that I won't accidentally make a mark I'll regret. My art-trained vision traces the flowing scroll that lays across a beautifully _(and surprisingly)_ symmetrical compass in the dim light of a dying lamp. I catch a few flaws in the ink-work, but know that anyone else would be blind to them. Despite this reasoning, I growl at my imperfection. I raise my arms above my head and stretch my spine. A few vertebrae pop in several places and I relax, relieved that some of the tension of the seemingly endless hours has left me, _I can't wait 'til she sees it!_

My sister, brother, and parents had gone to bed long ago. My ears perk up, catching the nearly imperceptible sounds of one of the afore-mentioned turning on their creaking bed above me. Not really feeling tired, yet knowing I should sleep, I turn my tired eyes to the screen of my well-loved computer. I reluctantly minimize the page on which I had been re-watching Death Note.

Like anyone who follows my tumblr knows, I am VAGUELY obsessed with the inhabitants of Wammy House. I pause in that thought, staring into space as I reconsider, _but I would have to say that I'm especially fascinated with L and Near._

I rest my back against the surprisingly uncomfortable armchair, my right pointer finger forming a hook before coming to rest gently on my bottom lip. My left hand wraps around my body, a perch for my right elbow: my signature thinking pose that even I'm unaware that I do (other than people telling me), _I'm not certain what draws me to those characters, but I'm sure it's a measure of camaraderie._ Much like L, I sit in a strange way that draws attention from anyone around. Even now, my legs interlock over each other in what I'm sure is an acrobatic pose. I rarely eat anything due to having anorexia when I was younger. But most of all: _Like the both of them, I sit alone in a corner, constantly working until I drop._ _I'm sure my reasons are different from theirs._ _Unlike them, I work until I drop from exhaustion in order to _not_ think._ _Thinking leads to remembering, remembering leads to memories, memories lead to…_ I flinch. My mind flicks to the next subject, never stopping, _Tag on a ridiculously excellent sense of hearing that makes sound-canceling headphones necessary to even be around our three dogs, a weak immune system, and an eerie knack for reading people and you have a formula for a social outcast._

A wicked shudder works its way through my entire body. This causes my knees to slam up into the table, almost as if my body is trying to rescue me from the maze of my own mind. Shocked, I realize that I've been staring at a blank expanse of wall while lost in my thoughts. _Ugh, again?!_ I flick my phone display on: 2:15 AM. _Well, I was only lost for about 13-14 minutes…_ I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands, not keen on a more permanent form of eye shadow,_ Not bad, all things considered._

Closing my laptop, I haul myself to my feet. Knowing that the table is tall enough to protect my art piece from all three of our dogs and that it's far enough out of the way so that no one would accidentally spill something on it, I leave my piece upon it. Nonetheless, my paranoid mind forces me to turn back to the table. I roll down my long, black bell-sleeves (which would have otherwise gotten in the way of my artwork) as I analyze the tabletop for anything that could go wrong. Although the scarlet-red stitching around the cuffs catches my eye, weaving it's way around in a beautiful curled pattern, I ignore it. Instead, I make sure that all pens are capped and nothing can fall on the piece. Satisfied, I nod to myself and turn away.

The midnight-black material of my long skirt seems to whisper secret words, flowing over my bare feet as I shuffle to the century-old wooden stairs. I repeatedly turn to scan the shadows, a habit I'm still trying to kick from childhood. I dutifully check that the front door is locked before stealthily slinking up the stairs, avoiding the notoriously creaky portions.

At one of the landings, I catch sight of the moon. As I stare at the round orb, I feel the writer, the artist, within me begin to awaken once again. Myths of elves, fairies, and the fair folk's attachments to the moon dance within my mind. Tales of spiriting away and fairy rings weave into a vibrant tapestry. I'm only awoken from my mental world by a bat darting in front of the beautiful sphere. Shaking my head, I check my phone only to discover that I've been staring at the moon for a good 5 minutes. Wishing almost mournfully that I could have remained lost in that fairy-tale land of my mind, I sigh and continue up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I approach the hallway. Out of instinct, I look both ways down the hall. I smile as I see what's at the far end: a plug-in nightlight that my father bought once he was aware of the difficulties I have with the darkness of the night. Upon closer inspection, one would see that the nightlight reads 'Live, Laugh, Love'. Although still uncomfortable, I turn away from the shadows that remain. I stand a little taller as a quote I love comes to me from the works of J K Rowling: _"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."_

Having brushed my teeth earlier, I pass my parents' room to reach my door, directly across from my brother's. I close the door softly behind me before turning to face the small mint green room. I would have painted it scarlet, but my mother thought it was far too harsh a color. I graciously agreed to mint green, which I'm just as fond of. The size of the room makes clutter a large problem: a bookshelf with nigh room to spare sits in the corner, a tiny couch crouches beneath the two windows that face the front of the house (the blinds drawn tight). A small armoire takes up residence in a corner, barely used since I can never seem to keep anything in its proper place. 2 bedside tables flank my pok-a-dot duvet-covered bed. Despite the size and the lack of wiggle-room, I find it all cozy.

I spin to collapse upon the duvet. My black skirt flies up before floating down to rest on my legs. "Ouch!" I had forgotten about the clip I spin my hair into during long art sessions. I reach back and carefully remove the teeth of the clip before gently rubbing my head, snickering at myself for my forgetfulness.

I stare at the ceiling as I remember a time when I shared a room with my younger sister of 16. Everyone says that we look like twins (though we're 4 years apart), but I only see some of their reasoning. We both share the same olive complexion, brown eyes, brown hair (except I have a shade of red mixed in, thanks to Dad), same build, _hell, even the same nose,_ from strong Italian heritage. I sigh in envy, _Other than that, my sister is far more beautiful than I. She's funny and social, making friends wherever she goes. She's incredibly intelligent and a loyal friend…_ My lightly jealous thoughts come to a close as I smile, _But more than any of that: she's my best friend, always has been._ Despite the envy of my previous thoughts, I don't despise any of those traits that she has, _In fact, I'm happy for her and push for her success! I hope that she will have more than I._

My 13 year old brother looks different than his sisters, but not ridiculously so. His brown hair curls into a large bush upon his head that I adore. He shares his brown eyes with us, but that's where the resemblance stops. His skin is a pale color that often earns him sunburns, his face covered in freckles. I see a lot of myself in his behaviors, but not to my extremes. Shy at times, he will always try new things and is kind to everyone (although also sporting a strong sense of right and wrong). His dexterity serves him well during the countless hours I spend playing video games with him. His loud recklessness makes it easy for me to win. I giggle to myself, _but I worry about when he figures out the strategy of stealth, because then I'll have to start actually trying to beat him!_

Sitting up, loose red-brown curls cascade to bounce gently just below my shoulder blades. I lay back down, using my hands to fan my hair out across my pillow. Combing through the strands, I stare at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me and yawn. Not even bothering to change clothes, I pray the darkness of sleep takes me quickly.

My last thoughts turn to my favorite Death Note characters, _I wonder how they live with such strange habits and lifestyles. I don't seem to be managing nearly as well as they always have. I wonder how many episodes I'll get through tomorrow…_ Someone must have heard my prayer because my mind clouds over and I am lost.

But I was wrong. Perhaps I shouldn't have feared the darkness, but what the darkness was harboring was about to change my life- and the lives of many others…

Forever.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Monkey In The Oak Tree

**Author's Note:** I'll let you all know if I get an accurate posting pattern, but until then, just check in every once in a while and keep your eyes open! I hope you all like the rewrite so far! Now we're back to where the story truly begins! ***I don't own Death Note, only my OCs***

**Chapter 2****- The Monkey In The Oak Tree**

Out of the timelessness of sleep, dim red lights appear in the darkness. Still somewhere between the realm of dreams and reality, I watch the redness form a pattern of movement: back and forth, back and forth… As my mind slowly awakens, so does my usually lightning fast (and generally intelligent) thoughts, _Hm… I wonder what they are?_ Despite the mystery, I feel no need to solve it. In fact, I feel nothing at all except the quiet, sleepy sensation of peace.

After a few moments, my awakening is sped along as a cool breeze wiggles its way through my long sleeves, causing a shiver to roll up my spine. I feel my bangs tickle my cheeks, my hair tugged by a gentle wind. For a while, my slow mind doesn't question it. Once the wheels in my head begin to turn at an adequate speed, a thought occurs to me: _Wait… breeze?_ My eyes fly open.

My body, still not as quick to awaken as my mind, helps to keep me in place. I don't move, instead allowing myself to take in what I'm seeing. Staring directly ahead (well, up), I see beams of sunlight streaming through beautiful, wide oak leafs. It's at this moment when the obvious finally hits me: _I'm outside._ The less obvious, yet far more alarming thought comes to me next: _We don't have an oak tree._

I focus on the breeze dancing across my skin, trying to determine if this is all a dream or reality. In these moments when I cannot make out whether a situation is real or not (which is far more frequent than you may think), I call out to my mother to help me confirm or deny. "Mom?!" I call out warily, yet with enough volume to wake her. Instead of hearing her open her door and walk to my room, I hear a far younger voice say "What was that?"

For another minute or two, I lock my eyes onto a single oak leaf, _Otherwise I'll become overloaded from the information of a foreign location and I'll start to panic._ I take said time to feel each limb of my body, to feel every sensation, to hear everything that I can. I hear the soft treading of feet, getting farther and farther from me. I quickly determine that I am not in my room. _I am, in fact, outside and have no idea where my family is._ After collecting this information, I find it imperative that I move to another location since someone has put me here and therefore obviously knows where I am.

I sit up far too quickly. _Crap, there goes all of Mom's warnings to sit up slowly!_ Black spots dance across my vision. I sway and feel myself falling, seemingly in slow motion, to my right. Meanwhile, I reprimand myself furiously: _How come I can think of all of these important survival and mental exercises yet I can't keep it in my head to sit up slowly?!_ Thinking that I had been on the ground already, I tense up as I continue to fall past the 90 degree mark where the floor _should_ have been.

My body recalls the gymnastics classes of my early years, knees locking around whatever I'm laying on. I swing upside down, swaying black and forth as I dangle from a branch only by my legs. My arms and hair hang above my head, clearly hoping for a reunion with the grassy floor. _All I want is a pain-free reunion with the ground,_ I think grimly as I notice that my head is still a little less than 6 feet above the cruel, hard earth. I groan as the black spots swell in size, twirling across my eyes. "Ugh…" I start to pull my arms up so that I can grab the branch I'm hanging from when-

"HEY!"

I drop my torso and arms back down, almost falling out of the tree in surprise. Peering through the black dots, I can discern a person approaching me, wearing what looks like a black vest and pants. As this person gets closer, I recognize the shiny material of the clothing as (probably) leather. I can determine that the person has shoulder-length blonde hair. Since the voice I heard was decidedly masculine, I'm pretty certain it's a guy, _But with all that leather, who knows?_ I giggle to myself, all of the blood rushing to my head.

My hair drifts in the steady breeze, before readjusting back into it's loose curls. I'm pretty sure it's tickling his nose since he sneezes. I'm suddenly EXTREMELY grateful that my foot-length black skirt was caught under my knees when I swung down, as well that a section of my shirt's hem is caught in the skirt's waistband. _Thank God… This is one girl who is NOT pretty, clothed or otherwise!_

'He' sneezes again, bringing me out of my cluttered thoughts. He crosses his arms. "Who are you?" His hands appear to be black, but I realize that he must be wearing gloves.

I open my mouth, trying to answer him. Before any coherent words can reach my lips, the black spots swell to consume all of the sunlight. I feel my knees unlock and I can only pray that I don't hit the guy in front of me…

**~ 3rd POV ~**

The boy looks up at the strange girl, waiting for an answer. His black gloves meet at the crooks of his arms, his nonexistent patience causing a single black finger to tap in impatience. Occasionally adjusting his position in order to avoid the girl's hands, though covered in the long black sleeves, dangling in front of him, his blue eyes flicker suspiciously to her hair (which had made him sneeze twice).

About to ask her again, his mouth opens slightly in surprise when her sleepy, half-lidded eyes roll to the back of her head. Before he can even ask if she's alright, her form goes limp and she begins to fall (luckily her descent is quicker than her skirt or shirt's). Well trained, he acts quickly. Already very close, he simply bends his knees and reaches his arms forward to catch her. He braces himself, expecting to be met with approximately 130-135 lbs of weight. He's pleasantly surprised, and slightly concerned, to find that she's incredibly light. He crouches on the ground to examine the stranger in his arms.

_I_ _can't tell exactly how tall she is while holding her like this_. His concern is heightened when his arm can feel her ribs very prominently through her shirt. The business-like analysis continues: _She's wearing a black shirt with sleeves that reach past her wrists, only allowing the fingertips to show_. A red swirling design is sewn into the cuffs that billow around her hands, yet succumb to the cling of gravity. _Although her shirt is small, it still makes piles of folds around her small frame. _Her skirt brushes the toes of her bare feet, the black material fluttering gently in the breeze.

His mouth sets in a firm line, _I thought that she'd passed out because she's wearing all of this black in the beginning of August, but the material's thin-_ Realizing that he has no hands left, his cheeks turn a light shade of pink before he gathers his wits together. Quickly determining that no one is within his immediate vicinity to witness this act, he leans forward and gently rests his forehead against hers, _and she isn't even warm_. He leans back, blonde hair falling with gravity, yet seeming to be reaching towards her.

Her face is peaceful, giving him no hint as to why she had fallen unconscious. Her slight curls blow away from them both, her bangs dancing across her face. High cheekbones, olive skin, and full lips. One of her hands brushes the grass; he sees black on her fingers and, upon closer inspection, determines that her hand is spotted with ink stains. _She's probably around 20 years old; but if so, she's pretty small for her age… But all in all, she isn't bad looking-_

The boy is drawn from his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps. He stands, easily lifting her with him, as he turns to see another boy about 5'6" shuffling around the fountain in the middle of the wide green lawn. The newcomer pauses the hand-held game he had been tapping away at as he stops in front of the odd pair. He raises a black-gloved hand to adjust the white rimmed, orange lens goggles to rest atop his brown hair in order to allow his bright green eyes to investigate the scene with a calm, almost uninterested gaze. "Hey Mello! Whatcha got there?" He throws a thumb back in the direction he'd come from, "I heard the kids come running in, shrieking about a monkey hanging from the tree out back." Eyes lowering to see the unconscious girl, he steps forward to stand in front of 'Mello'. He gestures towards her, "This it? 'Cuz it looks pretty cute to be a monkey."

Mello flinches as the boy voiced his own most embarrassing observation. There's a pause before the boy grins cheekily up at Mello, "So… did you kill her?"

Mello's face twitches before he snaps, "No! She fell out of the tree!" He shifts the girl in his arms, jostling her arm to fall off to her side, dangling in the air. The other boy's smirk disappears as he steps forward, reaches out a red and black-striped clad arm, and gently places her hand back on her stomach. After his task's success, the boy smiles contentedly. Mello speaks a bit softer, "Matt, has anyone gotten Watari yet?"

'Matt' sighs and turns back towards where he had come from. He examines the cuff of his cream, sleeveless vest as he answers in an amused voice, "I'm sure the herd has gotten to him as soon as they decided who would fit through the doors first." Matt turns towards his friend, looking back down at the stranger. After a moment, he continues hesitantly, "You know… it's a strange coincidence that she's shown up now of all times. This is the first time he's ever visited us, arriving yesterday, and then she just- appears?"

Mello glares down at the girl, suspicious, despite of himself, "Yeah, I know."

"Mello, Matt!" Both boys turn towards an elderly man in a black suit and pants (despite the time of year) hurrying towards them. A crowd of children of varying ages follow him, curious in regards to the day's strange events. He calls out again, "What happened here? Who is this?"

Mello looks up from the girl, "We have no idea who she is, do you know her, Watari?"

"Oh dear…" Finally reaching them, Watari stops in front of the three. A young boy, head reaching just above Watari's knee, peeks tentatively around him. Although his hands grip Watari's pants tightly, his black eyes are calm as they take in the strange ensemble.

Catching his breath, Watari adjusts his glasses, blue eyes peering down at the girl's face. The rest of the children stand hesitantly behind him, attempting to get a good look at the girl. After a minute of examination, he begins to speak in a low hum, "Hm…" Everyone leans towards him expectantly. He runs a thoughtful hand through his white hair before suddenly straightening up, "I'm afraid I have no idea!" All of the children (except for Mello, who remembered he has an unconscious girl in his arms) fall over in response to Watari's ridiculous build-up.

"Well, _that_ was helpful…" Matt mutters as he picks himself up.

Undeterred, Watari turns back to Mello, "Did she hit her head?"

Mello shakes his head, blond hair flying into a short-lived golden halo, "No, I managed to catch her." Looking back down at her face, he continues, "She must have been up in the tree and lost her balance. She was awake when she was hanging from the branch, but she passed out."

The girl suddenly groans, shifting her head. The seemingly always calm Mello (at least up to this point) panics for a moment, holding the girl away from him, "Crap! She's waking up!" After a few tense seconds, she stops moving, her breathing settling back into a calm rhythm.

With all of the information they can obtain thus far, Watari nods and takes out a handkerchief to wipe the side of his face, "Well, in any case, we should move her into the house; it's ungodly warm out here! We can get answers when she wakes up." Without another word, he turns towards a gigantic house and begins to walk back.

A bit shocked at the sudden decision, it takes a moment for both Matt and Mello to process Watari's words. Looking at each other, Matt shrugs before lowering his goggles back over his eyes. Unpausing his game, and without looking up, he manages to maneuver around all of the children towards the mansion. Mello gives a last glance at the girl in his arms before following them both. The children part like the red sea, still ogling at the new arrival, as he walks towards the huge mansion that is Wammy's House.

Unbeknownst to any of them, two others watch the induction of the intruder.

One peers through several impressive towers of dice he had been building around the window. He looks down at the small figures, slightly frustrated at the lack of observable details. He releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. A finger comes up and begins to curl a lock of snow white hair around it finger repeatedly, attempting to curb his aggregation, _There's nothing I can right now, I'll just have to be patient._

The other stands in a hallway as dark as himself, taking in all of the events through the high window. He analyzes everything possible from his perch, _but it's admittedly difficult._ He had heard the commotion of the children downstairs and decided to take a break from his current case to see the 'monkey'. A tad frustrated, but even more intrigued, he bites his thumb gently, only turning away from the window when everyone had disappeared from his line of vision. Placing his other hand in his jeans pocket, he shuffles back down the dark hallway, _I'll have to make preparations to acquire further information… immediately._


	3. Chapter 3 - Escape From Wammy's House

**Author's Note:** It's been brought to my attention that these chapters are almost identical to the prior story. Please remember this _is_ a rewrite. Changes will be more noticeable later on, but until then the changes are mainly in the characteristics of M, added details, and reactions of other characters. ***I don't own Death Note, only my OCs***

**Chapter 3**** - Escape From Wammy's House**

The first thing I experience in my achingly slow return to the wakeful world: pain. A dull throb resounds throughout my head and, though I'm not awake enough yet to form full coherent thoughts, there is the simple question of 'Why?'. As I allow time to pass for all bodily functions to return, I use what senses are readily available to me.

My extremely sensitive hearing automatically sharpens to determine if a loud or high-pitched sound is responsible for my headache. A continuous quiet clicking speeds along without a discernible pattern. A separate sound reaches me next; however, as opposed to the crazed clicking, this sound is in a soft, repeated rhythm. _It's definitely closer to me, but is softer than the clicking, which explains why I didn't hear it first. Certainly not enough to give me a headache, I'm sure._ Willing myself to be patient, I try to recognize the rhythm: _Feet. Pacing footsteps, most likely on a carpeted floor. Aggravated and impatient, judging by the pace._

It's listening to the aggravation in the rhythm that my memory finally returns to me, _The tree! I fell out of the tree! I must not have hit the ground or I'd have a far worse headache, if I was lucky enough to wake up, that is. Dear Lord, I hope I didn't hit the boy who spoke to me!_ I pause my speeding train of thought, turning it in a slightly ironic possibility, _Come to think of it, he probably saved my life if I did._ If the situation wasn't so serious, I'd have laughed (and immediately apologized to the boy of course).

Recalling my focus, my mind becomes serious again: _Either way, I'm still in an unknown location with complete strangers and with no clue as to how I got here from inside my locked home._

It comes to my attention that I had apparently slowly stiffened throughout the last quite frightening thought. Slowly, I will each muscle to relax. My feet loosen, arching back down into their resting positions. I feel my knees unlock beneath my black skirt, probably not even a ripple disturbing the fabric. I release each joint in my fingers, feeling something soft beneath my sensitive fingertips. _It's far too stiff to be a bed, must be a couch. The person pacing must be walking on carpet. I'm inside_. A colorful array of swear words flow through my mind as my shoulders, which had risen a fraction of an inch off of the 'couch', finally reunited with the soft material, _If I was still outside, escape would probably be a lot easier…_ I slowly exhale in an attempt to mimic unconsciousness as closely as possible, not even allowing myself to grit my teeth. _If they notice I'm awake, I won't have any more time to think about anything without further pressure._

Before I can panic again, I weigh the option of 1) taking my chances with the strangers or 2) fleeing at the first opportunity and assess the situation on my own terms. I quickly come to the conclusion that gathering more information is of the utmost importance right now, _There are just too many variables to be able to make any educated decisions._

Now looking for a chance to escape, I listen even closer to any ambient sounds that could help me determine the location of any people or objects in the room. _The pacing is coming from behind my head, so the irritated person is probably glancing at me every time they paces in my direction. The clicking, whatever it is, is somewhere near my feet; however, it's not moving. So whoever's making that sound is staying in place… sitting on the arm of the couch? _A quiet noise of celebration comes from by my feet, _That sounds like a level up… like in a video ga- Wait, that's what it is, it's a gameboy! Jesus, why didn't I recognize that sooner? I used to play with those all hours of the day when I was younger._

The pacing stops. It's a miracle I don't leap out of my skin and through the ceiling like a cartoon when a voice as loud as cannon fire thunders throughout the room, "_DAMN_ IT, MATT! Can't you stop playing that game for a few minutes?! It's driving me _CRAZY_!" Quickly relaxing my body once again, my mind takes in the new information, _Matt? I know a few 'Matt's, but none of them play with gameboys…_

Clearly undeterred by the yelling, the clicking continues as an amused voice replies from the player of the game, Matt: "Tell you what, Mello, I'll take a break from gaming as soon as _you_ take a break from pacing."

_Mello? It can't be- I only have ever heard of one Mello and that's from Death Note. It's ridiculous, impossible, but-_ I hesitate, _Then again, he was wearing a lot of black and is around the right height. Not to mention his best friend is a guy named Matt who's an addicted gamer. _

My brain feels as if a bucket of cold water has been thrown over it in as a sudden wave of realization catches me up in a tsunami:_ I'm in Wammy's House._

Still attempting to absorb this information, I'm jerked out of my thoughts by Mello's growl (which moves away from me,_ a clear sign that he's begun to pace again_), "But she was moving only a few minutes ago, why isn't she awake yet?" I have to make a conscious effort first: in order to not lean away and scrunch my face up in pain from the volume of Mello's voice, secondly: because I know that everyone's attention is now definitely on me, and thirdly: not to smile, _Huh, he's just as loud as I thought he'd be…_

An older, gentler voice speaks from near Mello, "Boys, that's quite enough." _That must be Watari!_ Though the statement was clearly meant as a reprimand, I can hear an amused tone.

The three continue talking (at a more reasonable volume, I must admit), but I've already returned to thinking, _Alright, there's the issue of the fact that I know their personalities like the back of my hand. I'm going to have to play dumb or they'll question how I know so much about them… _

I'm not exactly well known for my ability to sit still. My entire being is totally focused on making a conscious effort not to tap my fingers, run a hand through my hair, or to take on my thinking pose as my thoughts race on: _I also can't explain how I got here which will make them extremely suspicious. I mean, I've just __happened__ to pop up at an incredibly secretive elite home for gifted children? _Another thought occurs to me that makes me want to groan at my bad luck: _If Watari's here, that means that L is most likely here as well!_ Part of my mind laughs a little at this adorably precious thought: _-since he can't seem to tie his shoes without him._ Once again refocusing, _This would be his first real visit to Wammy's, so that throws the 'coincidence' plea right out the window, kills it, buries it- and revives it just to slaughter it again… _

I begin to feel lightheaded from the stress of the situation, so I take a moment to just listen to the room. Judging from the grunts and exclamations coming from by my feet, Mello is now attempting to wrestle the gameboy from Matt. I smile inwardly when I feel the couch get bumped, _Good luck with that!_ I hear Watari sigh near my head, clearly not even bothering to enter a quest of futility. Thanks to the speed of my thinking, I estimate that only about a minute has passed, if that.

A sense of calm restored, I slowly allow myself to continue problem-solving. _If Mello's in the room, that means there's a high chance that Near is as well. There's no way I can determine where he is because he's always so damn quiet and if any of them have a chance at realizing that I'm faking unconsciousness, it's him. So basically, I need to make an escape plan as soon as humanly possible before he alerts the others. As much as I love these guys and would like to hang out in every otaku's dream, I'll be confined if I stay here._ All of the scenes of various characters who are imprisoned by L come, unbidden, across my train of though. I shudder at the unpleasantness at that possibility.

Mentally shaking myself, I refuse the panic knocking at the door to my consciousness,_ The most important question now is how do I get to the door? I don't know its location and it's probably locked… There's also the problem of Mello's ridiculously fast reflexes. Bottom line: I need a distraction, fast._

Almost like a blessing from heaven, the sound of distant muffled footsteps approaches the room. Despite the distance and the carpet, I can tell that the approaching person is either very angry or just very heavy-footed. As the mystery person gets ever-closer, the approximate location of the door becomes clearer and clearer to me. I want to pump my fist in the air in triumph at my luck, _Humans are naturally reactive to noise. This is it: when the door opens, I'll make a dash for it._ After the joy of my supplied distraction wears off, I start to see holes in my plan,_ No, don't think of them, don't-_

_What if I get vertigo again?_

_What if I trip on something?_

The worst possible problem finally hits me (although if I had been thinking clearly, I would have remembered that said person walks with a very light step):

_What if L opens the door?_

Before I can go into panic mode, I refocus on the future click of the door that would be my ticket out of here. While listening for the door, I inevitably hear the end of one of Mello's rampages, "-and we don't even know anything about her! Why doesn't she just wake up?!"

There is a small pause. I hear clicking, but not that of Matt's gameboy (which I assume he's paused in an attempt to calm Mello). Instead, it has a vague rhythm, but sounds very precise… _like something being put into place._ The voice I hear is soft, almost musical, though it seems to have the special ability to be able to fill the entire room. Near utters the one thing I had hoped they wouldn't figure out, "But Mello… she _is_ awake."

My entire body tenses-

_Click._

My eyes snap open and I fling myself towards the source with reckless abandon. I don't waste a second to look around, even at my favorite characters, only seeing the backs of everyone's heads as they turn towards the open door with Roger in the doorway. The grumpiest of Wammy's 2 white-haired men has already begun to speak, "What is this 'monkey' I keep hearing a-AH!"

I dodge under his arm and into the hallway. Black begins to surround the edges of my vision, the ground swooping beneath my feet. I fall into the wall across from the door, _NO!_ I crash into the unforgiving wall but, refusing to allow myself to crumple, I use the wall to catapult myself into a dead sprint down carpeted hallway. I can hear a scuffle from behind me as someone, undoubtedly, tries to get past the poor, stunned Roger. I allow myself a snicker before I turn a corner.

What most people don't know is that, while I'm not good at any form of endurance exercise, I'm one of the fastest sprinters. While I always assume this is a good thing when fleeing a pursuer, it turns out to be a major handicap since Wammy's House is HUGE. I begin to curse that there were no blueprints of Wammy's House in the manga, _Although, why would there be?_ I whirl around corner after corner as small black dot after small black dot attempt to fill in my vision. I desperately attempt to blink them away as I whirl around another corner, long red hair streaming behind me.

I slam into someone, their head colliding with my sternum. I repress a cry of pain, only allowing myself a quiet grunt of pain (although it hurts a hell of a lot more than said 'grunt' expressed), I hit the wall so that I don't tumble to the ground. My counterpart isn't so lucky. She's a beautiful, almost gold-skinned girl dressed in a ballerina leotard, staring up at me with wide brown eyes. Black hair frames her heart-shaped face, gently flowing down to her shoulders.

An awkward moment of silence, just long enough to take a breath, passes. She opens her mouth and utters, "The monkey?"

Knowing that there isn't a moment to lose, I don't counter her statement. I mutter a quiet (yet sincere) "Sorry!" as I take off down the next hall. I hear her call out about a monkey again, but much louder this time. I curse under my breath, _Every child probably heard that… Hell, even L probably heard that, no matter what country he's in! I've got to get out of here!_

I finally, _finally_, come out to an open hallway with a balcony overlooking the main hall. Breathing a sigh of relief, I jog to the wide main staircase. The main stair has only one landing which branched off to opposite sides of the house. Darting down one of these branches, I spin on a dime at the landing, fully prepared to descend the last set of stairs and sprint to freedom!

I look up towards my goal and time seems to stop. My skirt flies in front of me, seemingly wishing to escape as much as I, but that's no longer an option. My auburn waves drift down slowly as I stare back at the crowd of children that has gathered in the main hall in response to the girl's cry. You could hear a pin drop, much less Matt's call, "Where did the monkey go?"

Everyone, including myself, turns toward the direction I had just come from. I crinkle my nose in distaste,_ So __I'm__ the monkey? I had no idea what they were talking about, but __seriously__?! _A child amongst the crowd gasps, jolting me out of my thoughts,_ Right, trying to escape from a house of geniuses, focus!_

I turn back to the crowd and, despite the uselessness of the gesture and the fact that I can't think of anything else, put a finger to my lips. _Hopefully, most of the kids are young enough to honor my request,_ I think (although I can already see that quite a number of the children are at least twelve years or older). A young yet tall boy with flaming red hair shakes the shock from himself. As he turns to where I had made my entrance, I see what appears to be a long line going down the right side of his face, _A scar?_ A ball and chain earring dangles wildly from his ear as he calls loudly, "SHE'S AT THE STAIRS!"

I hear the sounds of pursuit and I grip the smooth banister on reflex. Turning back to the crowd, I can't help it: I hiss down at the boy, "Traitor!"

_Seeing as how the front door isn't an option-_ I grip my black skirt in my left hand and take off up the other branch of stairs across from me, continue down that hallway, and dart down another. I grab the next corner with my right hand, losing no momentum of my run, and whirl around it. I look up to see: a dead end.

Before I totally lose hope, I see my salvation in the form of- _a window!_ Knowing that I'm nearing the end of my sprinting abilities (I gave up any attempt to keep my gasping for oxygen silent a long time ago), I hurry over to it. _Please be open, and please open quietly!_ I breathe a sigh of relief when the window lifts easily. I raise my skirt above the sill and clamber out onto the roof, closing the window as quietly as possible behind me.

Taking a seat on the rough shingles just out of view of the window, I allow myself to breathe as heavily as my body wishes. I pull my hair back with my hands, braiding it to try to calm myself. My chin-length bangs hang down in front of my left eye; I brush them behind my ear impatiently. After a few moments, I put my head back and stare at the darkening sky. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe a bit slower, a bit deeper. In a few moments, I risk carefully shifting into at a slight crouch as I look at the grounds. _It's almost sundown. I need to get off this roof before it's too dark._

Sick of holding my skirt up, I roll up the waist until the black material swishes around my mid-calves. Anyone else would be bothered by the rough tiles, but I don't wear shoes unless I have to, so I don't worry too much about slipping off or cutting my calloused feet. I slowly stalk along the roof, ducking beneath white-framed windows and wincing as I feel the vibrations of footsteps inside. With the knowledge that everyone inside is slowly eliminating places I could be hiding, I hurry to a corner of the roof.

I lower myself until my legs are dangling off, _In older houses like these, usually the posts to hold up the porch roof had extravagant tops to them. I'm just going to have to hope I can find a foothold… _Swinging my legs back and forth, my toe bumps against a carving at the top of the post. Wedging my foot on at arch, I reach down, one hand after the other. Ignoring the black spots swarming from my exertion, I clutch the post as I slowly but surely climb down until my feet meet the railing.

I give myself a few seconds to sit and breathe, grateful for the thin material of my clothes and the cool evening breeze. My hair has already begun to come out of its braid, the bottom of my unwoven hair drifting on the wind. I stiffen when my attention is redrawn to shouting from inside (primarily from Mello, of course)._ Time to go! _

Hopping the railing and landing in a crouch on the grass, I turn towards a group of trees. I start off at a light jog, _The first place they'll look is the front gate. I'm going to have to scale a fence anyways, might as well do it under some cover._ Reaching the group of trees around the back left corner of the house, a 7 foot tall fence steadily looms higher above me at my approach. Stopping in front of it, I look down at my skirt with a sigh, _Why, why, _why_ did I not change into pajamas last night? _

Ignoring my fatigue, I haul myself to the top of the fence. While making sure that my skirt isn't caught on the fence, I feel a wave of vertigo strike me hard. Almost crashing to the ground on the spot, all of my muscles automatically tense up. After taking a moment to allow the dizziness to pass, I lower myself until I'm only hanging on by my hands. I drop and hit the ground hard. My knees buckle and I stumble to the ground.

_Nice job there, Grace._ Glad no one's around yet still unsure of my surroundings, I turn and lean my back against the cool metal of the fence. My bangs had come loose while jumping the fence, but I don't even bother to brush them back. I close my eyes before the black dots can overcome my consciousness. _In, out, in, out…_

This is all that I think for a couple of minutes, feeling the burning from overexertion leave my muscles. My breathing begins to level out, _You're almost home free, you just escaped Wammy's House! You can do this!_ I use the fence to lift myself, also utilizing it as a prop for my body after locking my knees. Taking a last breath, I feel ready, "Okay!" I turn away from the fence to walk down the road.

I freeze in place, eyes widening.

Before me stands the one man I had hoped I wouldn't run into because I know that I cannot escape him.

Messy black hair, dark as midnight; a pair of fathomless dark eyes gazing into mine as we assess each other.

There stands the world's greatest detective: L.


	4. Chapter 4 - A Fist-Fight With L

**Author's Note:** So sorry for how long it's taking to post! I've suddenly become very busy with various projects, but I promise that this story is always on my mind! Finally our favorite detective enters the picture! **Reminder**: If you want to do fanart, I can post it to the story when I put it up on the rewritinganime account on tumblr! ***I don't own Death Note, only my OC's***

**Chapter 4****- A Fist-Fight With L**

My muscles don't seem to be getting the message of 'relax' that my brain is screaming at them. Every joint is stiff and tense as I stare at the sleep-deprived detective. _After so many years of watching him on Death Note or seeing him in the manga- _this_ is the real thing._ His face is partially in shadows, giving him an even greater aura of mystery than he already has_, if that's possible_. I unconsciously tilt my head to the side innocently as my thoughts drift: _Huh… he's just as pale as in the anime. I wonder what his voice actually sounds like. Did the anime get it right?_ I straighten my head, _Okay, NOT the time! _

My eyebrows pull into a soft frown as I take in the more tactical details of the situation. He stands about 2 yards away, _Not that much in terms of distance_. His hands rest in the pockets of his blue-jeans, shoulders hunched beneath a long-sleeved white shirt. _Overall, he looks remarkably calm. _I don't let it fool me, not for a second.

I realize that I'm running out of time. _If I don't act first, he will gain the advantage. Every minute I spend standing here is another where the boys could find me,_ I think desperately, forcing myself not to glance back at the gate for pursuers. I quickly develop a plan, though the fangirl in me pines at the potentially missed opportunity of meeting my favorite character. _The first thing he's going to look for when I move is the direction that I'm looking. It's one of the biggest tells that will betray anyone in regards to where they plan to go. _My black skirt brushes up against my calves as I shift my weight. Unflinching under my steady gaze, the pale, silent man stares down at me. _I need to time this perfectly. _My fingers flutter against each other, _Okay, okay… Here we go!_

My hands pull into fists as I allow my eyes to flicker to my left. L tenses, planting his bare feet to lunge to his right, hands pulling out of his pockets. I smirk as I spot this opportunity, _Got you!_ I dig my feet into the grass and kick off in the opposite direction, using the tree line as a barrier between us. I run as fast as I can manage, dodging the thick trunks, _but I won't be able to last very long since my sprint in Wammy's…_ I can hear the padding of his feet, as bare as mine, as he steadily gains ground on me. I race through the tall shadows cast by the setting sun, refusing to look behind me for fear that I might break an ankle on a root or run into a tree.

My mind races with plans to counter him as it becomes clearer and clearer that I won't win this race: _Maybe if I stop abruptly, I can get lost in the shadows for just long enough to take off in the other direction. But the only way I'm going to stop quickly enough is if I run straight into a tree…_ Speaking of, I dart around yet another. My thoughts turn irritable and desperate, _At this point, these trees are helping him far more than they're helping me. I have to get out onto the road where I can run fas-_

A flash of white fabric and skin lashes out at me from my left. A hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me, full speed, out of the trees. He, a blur of white, and I, a blur of black, fly out of the shadows. All thoughts cease as adrenaline courses through me; my body prepares for combat before my feet even touch the ground.

Yanking me into the road had done little to lessen the momentum gained by either of us. He pulls me towards him, but I'm prepared. I pull my fingers back and I send the base of my palm into his chest. A grunt of surprise wrestles its way out of L as he releases my wrist. _Well I can't run now-_ I turn to face him, breathless and red-faced.

I take note of his eyes widening slightly as I turn to him, _Clearly he expected me to attempt running again._ I jump back slightly, putting a bit more distance between us. I position my feet, left towards L, my right pivoted back, both shoulder-width apart. I smile wryly up at his 5'9" frame, though he towers over me. _Sorry, buddy, but get used to being surprised. _

As an afterthought, I mentally curse at my clothes. _Not exactly combat made-_ my skirt has come loose from when I had previously rolled it, now swinging down at my ankles. The black bell sleeves sway with me as I shift my weight over and over again, _too easy to grab… To be honest, I had hoped I wouldn't have to rely on force. I know how skilled he is at hand to hand combat, but what choice do I have?_ I mentally shrug, my mood shifting in an instant: _Who knows, maybe I'll learn something. _

Out from under the trees, the dark shadows beneath his eyes are even more pronounced than I thought possible on a human being. I feel a wave of pity, _I'm sure if I asked him, he would say that he stays up at night because he wants to work on cases, but I'm sure it's more than that._ I mentally slap myself as I feel my resolve to fight him slip, _Stop getting distracted! Priorities!_

L seems to be standing casually, but I know better. I take note that his feet are discreetly placed at a distance that will help him maintain balance._ His knees aren't as bent as mine, but enough to supply easy movement. _His pale hands hover just over his legs. I watch his eyes analyze me as I shift my weight to the balls of my feet, crouching low. _I'm going to have to act soon and, knowing L, I can't pull that same eye-trick again,_ I think warily. _But he's definitely prepared for a straight-forward attack._ I resist the urge to groan in frustration or to run a hand through my hair (however I keep a smile on my face, trying to seem at ease), _I have to strike first or I'll lose for sure-_

A thought crosses my mind that confuses me greatly: _Why hasn't he spoken a word?_ My fists slightly lower as I consider this, _I know what Death Note's shown me. Not much about his past, but I do know about his methods._ L stares down at me, probably sensing my indecision, but I don't care. I look up at the calm detective's face, which looks bored, if nothing else. While most people would leap into questions or experiments, he would rather observe and gather facts _(by the way, does this guy ever blink?)_.

My eyes widen, _That's what he's doing! He's playing with me! He knows that I'm exhausted and probably can't win, but he wants to see how I think. This whole thing is one big test, in a way._ L doesn't move, but I'm almost certain that he can see the gears turning in my head. I can almost swear I see the ghost of a smile grace his lips, like he knows I've figured out his game. I bring my fists back up, _Despite how much I want to learn about him as well, I need to get away from here and find out what's going on._

A sudden wind whips past us both, heading seemingly nowhere and yet everywhere. L's hair dances wildly, his shirt billowing around his arms. He doesn't even twitch. My skirt flies behind me, getting caught on my knees; I grip the edges of the bell sleeves between my knuckles as they threaten to slide up my arms. My bangs fall over my left eye, but I don't dare flick them back, _I can see well enough anyways._ A plan finally comes to me and I prepare for the attack.

I pull my thumbs in (so that they won't break), and wrap my ink-stained hands around them both. My left foot turns to be parallel with L as my right foot digs into the road, spurring me forward; my right fist pulls back. I throw it forward, aiming at his face as my brain rehearses my reasoning in an attempt to assure myself of my success, _It's only natural to defend the nervous system center of the body, no matter how idle the attack. Essentially, threaten the head. _My body may be committed on its current, but little does L know that my right arm isn't._ I've only put a bit of force into it, actually. _

As my fist nears his face, both of his hands reach up; one captures my wrist, the other my elbow. The right bell sleeve is so long that it actually covers his hand and my own. I quickly bring my left fist forward in a swooping arc. While my right fist stops just short of his face, so close that it brushes his bangs, my left drills into his gut. His head snaps down as the air leaves his lungs and he releases my right arm, _Ha!_

I immediately regret my sense of accomplishment.

Since his head had snapped down at my strike, I can't see where his eyes are focused. His right hand closes over my left wrist and yanks me forward. My skirt flies behind me as I stumble forward. Learning from his previous mistake, he side-steps me as I fly past him. For just a second, I see his face, as calm and composed as ever. As soon as I'm off-balance, he catches my other arm. Drawing both arms behind my back, my knees are forced to the ground; I hiss when they make contact. My skirt tangles around my legs, _Yeah, this is _not_ the position you wanted to be in._

"L!"

We look up (well, I assume we both look up, but I can't be sure) to see Mello and Matt sprinting towards us through the shadows, closing in fast. Matt sticks out in the setting sun, the light bouncing off of the orange lenses of his goggles. Mello's a bit harder to see due to his black leather clothes, -_but it doesn't matter, in the end they're coming._ My teeth clench into a snarl,_ I can't let them get to us or any thought of escape is totally out of my grip. I need to finish this ridiculous chase and finish it now!_

I can feel the adrenaline wearing off, the fatigue from my exertions weighing down my limbs. Gravity seems to be intensifying, pushing ever harder on my already weary body. The darkness begins to return to the edges of my vision and I just want to lay down and sleep- _NO!_ An audible growl rips through my chest, a spark igniting within me.

Using the distraction that Mello and Matt provide, I draw my right leg forward until my foot is flat on the dusty ground. I push forward as hard as I can and I feel him release my wrists, clearly unprepared for my impromptu rebellion. I fall forward, but immediately use the momentum to lunge forward. I hear a few stitches pop in my black skirt from being tangled in my legs, but I don't care-_ I _**_have_**_ to _**_run!_**

Almost tripping twice, I sprint towards the startled pair. I keep staring between them as they skid to a stop and prepare for my advance. My hair flows behind me, my black clothes only a blur as I approach the boys. I don't even glance at them, hoping that they fall for the same trick that I had used on L before. I know it's going to work as I close the distance between us-

"To your right!"

It's too late to change directions, I've already darted to my left in a now useless attempt to get behind the trees. Mello immediately lunges in response to L's warning, black leather-gloved hands catching me around the waist. He had, unfortunately, overestimated my weight because his momentum sends us crashing to the dirt road. The back of my head strikes the ground…hard.

My mouth opens slightly as I stare up at the sky in shock at the pain, probably doing a spot-on impression of a goldfish. I can't even put thoughts together as Mello picks himself up in a kneeling position before pinning my shoulders harshly to the ground. The simple rosary that dangles down from his neck smacks the side of my face. I wince, but continue to stare up past the burning eyes of the panting, determined teen as my shoulders feel every single rock that's beneath them.

"I don't think that's necessary, Mello."

I hear soft footsteps approaching. Every instinct screams for me to look to the source, but I can't move an inch. All I can do is look up into the red sky. Almost dreamily, I hear their conversation. Mello whips his head to his left, blond hair spinning back and forth, "Why the hell not?! She's escaped from us, US! Who knows what trick she could pull next?"

A dark shape comes down to rest on Mello's shoulder that I vaguely register as another black-gloved hand. Matt's voice replies to Mello, "That would be because you almost certainly just gave her a concussion with that football-worthy tackle you used there."

"Wh-what?!"

Mello releases my shoulders to confront Matt as another figure leans over me. Dark eyes block my view of the sky, the bags beneath them simply emphasizing how pale L's skin is compared to his other features. His black hair forms a kind of shaggy halo around a strong jaw and high cheekbones. I stare into the eyes that never stop studying anything, seeing no end to them. I want to look away, uncomfortable with the feeling that he already knows everything about me.

Matt laughs off to the side, "Geez, Mello! She may have escaped, but she's a girl, not a wrestler!"

Black crowds closer, eating up my vision. _No…_

"I just got carried away!"

Black eyes. Two black, unreadable black holes. Yet before I lose everything, I can swear I see a hint of amused curiosity sparkle within them.

The darkness overtakes me.

L stares down at the, now unconscious, mysterious intruder. Despite everything he'd seen in his life, he's impressed by her skill and determination. Placing his left hand back in his pocket, his other at his lower lip, L exhales slowly. _She was quite an interesting fight and definitely intelligent in order to escape all three of the successors and Watari._ Ignoring the arguments from the younger boys, he continues his observations.

Her red-brown hair flares out from her head, almost taking on the appearance of a sun. She still breathes heavily from their combat and the chase, red cheeks slowly paling. All of the black material from her clothes blends into the shadows cast by the steadily descending sun.

Logic tells him that she's probably dangerous, _The chance of coincidence that she's here the first time I return to Wammy's is less than 1%…_ But something else, something that he can't quite pinpoint, tells him that she's not malevolent at all. L's mind works even faster, _When she turned to fight me, it wasn't with the body-language that gave off an intent to kill. On the contrary, she seemed hesitant in an almost… sad? kind of way._

L crouches down next to the girl, examining her face. _If she was truly sent to harm anyone, she would have worn something different. She was also given plenty of time to attack any of the four in the room with her while she feigned unconsciousness. _He had learned quite a bit in the few minutes he'd encountered her; but, as he remembered the spark in her eyes when she spun to face him- _There's more to her… _The seemingly emotionless L reaches out a pale hand and brushes her bangs away from her left eye, _Much more…_


	5. Chapter 5 - M My Name Is M

**Author's Note: **I apologize of the lack of postings. I've got a lot of stuff on my plate, but I'm trying to update at least every week. ***I don't own Death Note, only my OC's***

**Chapter 5****- M. My Name is M.**

I am adrift an unsteady ship upon a stormy sea, the deck rocking back and forth beneath me. I once again feel a soft cushion under my fingertips, _Not exactly a common component of ships… _After a few moments, the ground begins to steady as I try to remember my current situation. _Running, a lot of running…_ Hallway after hallway, a crowd of children, a man in a white shirt, dark black eyes- _HOLY CRAP! _

I bolt upright, fully prepared to run into my sister's room and tell her about my crazy dream. The ground seems to, once again, swoop beneath me as the black spots return. They zoom across my vision like angry hornets, a relentless swarm. Weaving back and forth, they seeming to crawl over the red armrest of the couch I'm sitting on. My right hand (which I had been using to support my weight when I sat up) slips off the side of the couch. My body careens towards the unwelcoming floor-

A flash of white darts out and strong arms catch me, "It would be highly inadvisable to move in your current condition."

My head lolls weakly toward the voice, auburn curls falling to the floor. The voice I heard was deep and slow, yet concise. It has a quality about it that makes me want to listen… _Hey!_ My brain finally catches up to what I'm thinking, _Focus! You should probably know _who_ this person is!_ Between the ever-moving patches of darkness and how dim the room is, I can't make out any discernible details. I see beams of light on myself and the couch, almost like it's the light from a- _a monitor!_ My eyes widen as I remember what happened just outside of the Wammy property. _They got me…_

The arms lift my upper body back onto the couch. Not allowing myself to panic from my failed escape attempt, I simply breathe. Staring at the ceiling, I wince as an inconsistent flickering light dashes across everything I see. _With those stupid monitors, no wonder L has bags under his eyes. Being the only source of light, it's enough to give anyone a migraine!_ I hear the soft hum of what only comes from a TV, confirming my theory that I am, indeed, in the company of L. _That means… L just caught me!_

My heart rate picks up at this realization, _Calm down! You may be obsessed with these characters, but you need to keep a low profile!_ I consider this statement for a moment, _Okay… as low a profile as I can keep after this disaster, I suppose…_

Attempting to distract myself, I tune into the sounds of the room. I hear the subtle, yet furious clicking from behind the back of the couch, _Matt must be there_. A familiar irritated pacing comes from near my head. I count the steps: 5 steps in one direction before returning back, _Mello_. I can't pinpoint Near, which doesn't surprise me.

_It's no accident that the boys are positioned where they are. They're strategically placed to stop me, no matter which direction I go._ _That means-_ I lower my eyes towards my feet, _Near must be down by that armrest. _Feeling very cornered and threatened, I feel my legs tense, my fingers digging into the couch in alarm. I'm prepared to fling myself over the couch and take my chances with Matt when-

"You're not going to make another escape like your last, I'm afraid."

I whip my head towards the soft yet commanding voice of L, only to be met with his eyes drilling into mine. Confused as to why his eyes are at my level, I take note that he's sitting on the floor, right leg bent with his arm resting on it. _Wait, why is he sitting like that? He always sits in that weird crouch, doesn't he?_ I file this line of thinking away for a later time when I notice how close L actually is: his face about a foot from mine, actually. My eyes automatically shift away from his, uncomfortable with such intense eye contact. Instead, I focus on the collar of his right ear.

_Wait…_ The gears within my head begin to turn, _By now, L knows that I shouldn't be underestimated. All problems regarding me have arisen when I have the element of surprise. He's positioned everyone this way and he, himself, is this close, in an attempt to make me uncomfortable. I'm more likely to answer questions in order to get out of this situation._ Refusing to be intimidated any longer, I lift my eyes back to his, narrowing them fiercely, _Well played, but nice try. If I say nothing, it gives him limited information. If nothing else, it will aggravate him, and that leads to mistakes. _I smirk at the detective,_ You're move._

I almost swear I see the corner of his mouth lift a bit- when something I wasn't expecting happens. I had been focusing on L so much that I had forgotten the 3 others in the room. The once consistent pacing footsteps abruptly change direction, storming towards my head.

Like the flick of a switch, my anxiety-driven defensive instincts heighten. I cover my face with my arms and draw my knees to my chest, my skirt flowing over my feet. All that can be seen of me is a black mass of fabric and a waterfall of hair. I'm just in time. Hands grab the armrest right above my head, the grip so strong that it pulls the couch towards him. I feel Mello's rosary smack my arms, so close that, if I wasn't wearing long sleeves, I'm sure I would feel his breath on my skin.

Before anyone can react, he's drawn in a deep breath and begins to spit fire, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU FALLING OUT OF TREES? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FIGHTING US?!"

A musical voice that I'd only heard once before rises from the ground at the opposite end of the couch, "Mello, if it isn't clear already, she has a background in defense that was enough to give L a run for his money. I wouldn't put my face too close to hers while she's clearly feeling threatened."

The rosary drags across my arms, lifting into the air. _Mello's undoubtedly turned towards Near. I hate to say this, but I hope he keeps his attention on Near for now, _I think desperately. Unbeknownst to the boys, my mind is cranking faster and faster, a tug a war battle of trying to keep control versus the panic bubbling up in my chest.

"SHUT UP NEAR, I KNOW THAT!" Mello's rosary strikes me again; I flinch this time, arms tightening around my head. "I don't care what kind of history she has, I want to know who the hell she is and what the hell she's doing here!" I peer through my arms, my brown eyes open wide. The light of the monitors flash, giving him a shadowy deranged look.

I lose the battle of control.

Ugly memories flash before my eyes, loud shouts filling my ears. Screaming, yelling, _no_, an angry red face in mine, a strong strike across my face, _NO_ a broken young girl staring back at me in the mirror with a bruise blooming across her skin. **_NO- _**

"NOT AGAIN!"

Before I can think through my body's decision, my right arm is thrown forward. My palm strikes Mello's forehead. Head snapping back, he crashes to the ground. In one fluid movement, I spin into a crouch in order to face my fallen opponent, black skirt billowing around me. I almost fall over again, but the sense of danger still hasn't left me. I lean against the back of the couch as I keep my eyes trained on the far armrest, awaiting my attacker to reemerge, "DON'T COME NEAR ME!"

This movement is enough to make me almost pass out again, but I manage to stay conscious. It's so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. There's no clicking from Matt nor Near, both having stopped to observe Mello and I's interaction. The flickering from the monitors gives everyone a harsh lighting; Matt's goggles almost blind me from the reflected light, even though it's only seen at the edges of my vision. I can't see L's expression, but I'm sure he's studying the entire confrontation.

As the sense of danger fades, my hands (which had curved into what can only be considered claws) relax. I blink, my eyes relaxing from their prior appearance of a wild animal's gaze. I hear a soft, sigh from slightly behind me to the left, "Mello, I hate to say 'I told you so'," (I roll my eyes at this, blowing a stray hair out of my face with a puff of air, _Right_), "But I told you so."

After a moment, it hits me as to what I've just done. "OHMYGOD!" I say in a rush, kneeling on the couch and stretching myself so that I can reach the red armrest. Aware that a potentially murderous teen is on the other side, I cautiously peer over the arm cushion. In my most sincere voice, I say, "Mello, I'm so sorry! You caught me by surprise, I didn't mean to-"

A flash of blond hair and black leather shoots up past me, "WHAT WAS THA-wait…" Though still furious, he's now confused. I have to hold back laughter at the combination of his expression and the red mark on his forehead. He continues, "How do you know my name?"

_Crap._ I fumble for an excuse, but am saved when Matt speaks up from behind the couch, "Near just said it."

Before Mello can explode at Matt's reply, L clears his throat, "In any case, we need to know what's going on; I'm afraid you aren't leaving until we do." I turn towards him and lay against the back of the couch, letting out another puff of air to blow some hair out of my face. I look at him, resigned, as he continues, "Before you get any ideas of escape, you should know that you've been unconscious twice today and have received a concussion. Walking will be a challenge, let alone running. Also, the door is locked and everyone's been told there will be no interruptions. You may as well get comfortable."

Much to my relief, he finally relinquishes the staring contest we seemed to be having. Twisting slightly, he reaches up towards a small table next to him which is, _of course_, covered in cakes. Obviously knowing where this particular piece is beforehand, he deftly chooses a slice of vanilla cake with a strawberry on top. L deftly balances the plate upon his bent knee with ease. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes or smile at the predictability of it all.

As he acquires a fork, I silently weigh my options. _There's no way L's going to let me out of this room without answers; he'll keep me in here for as long as it takes. One thing's for sure: I don't want any of them as enemies. I don't have to say _everything_, I can just say the minimum needed to get through this. _Steeling my resolve, I cross my legs, one over the other. Leaning forward, I make every attempt to look bored at the entire situation. Propping my right elbow on my knee, I cup my face in my hand as my slight bangs fall back over the left side of my face. "What do you want to know?" I say.

L doesn't look up from his cake; I smirk,_ Clearly I'm not the priority at the moment._ After taking his first bite, he (quite rudely) speaks through his mouthful, "Well, why don't we start at the beginning: What were you doing in the tree?"

I groan aloud in frustration, allowing myself to lean back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling, _The one question that I can't answer, even if I wanted to!_ Head back, I catch Matt's eye. He raises an eyebrow, but smiles, amused, "Something wrong?"

I sigh, "No…" _In order to convince them, I can't look like I'm lying. Fortunately, my anxiety isn't too bad. All of the symptoms of anxiety can be mistaken for lying._ I frown to myself as I look up at the ceiling, _I wonder why I'm not shy around these guys; around anyone I don't know, I'm a fidgeting mess!_ I then find the obvious answer: _I suppose it's because I already feel like I know them. I guess all of those hours watching this anime paid off!_

A harsh and unnecessarily loud voice practically shouts from my right, "Are you going to answer?"

I swing my head in Mello's direction. Meeting his blue-eyed gaze, I respond evenly, "Yes, I will answer. The problem is that you're not going to like what I have to say." Mello snorts and crosses his arms.

Uncomfortable with the spotlight and knowing the kind of response I'm going to get from at least one of the room's occupants, I lower my hands to the couch. Not uncrossing my legs, I simply lift myself onto my hands and swing my pretzeled body a bit to the left. _I'm going to need to put some distance between the ticking time-bomb of testosterone to my right…_ I think grimly. I see a fluffy head of white hair next to me on the floor, but have no time to study the owner.

Prepared, I look straight into L's eyes in an attempt to communicate the truth of my statement: "I honestly have no idea."

There's a stunned silence before Mello breaks it. He grips the armrest in his gloved hands again, leaning towards me, "_That's ridiculous!_" I wince, my hands automatically flying up to cover my right ear in an attempt to shield my sensitive hearing from his verbal onslaught. His right hand breaks its hold before waving wildly through the air in exasperation, "_How_ do you end up in a tree without knowing how you got there? Much less in a place that's nearly impossible to gain access to!"

I open my eyes when I hear what sounds like a choking sound. Using a black-gloved hand, Matt is yanking the incredulous chocolate lover backwards by his leather collar. I restrain what would have been laughter to giggles at Matt's boldness, watching the show of Mello being dragged to the wall. Raising his voice over Mello's death rattles, Matt says, "You wanted answers, now let her talk." Releasing Mello, Matt leans nonchalantly against the wall as if nothing had happened.

If looks could kill, Matt would have been declared 'deceased' a long time ago. As the racket dies down, the boys can now hear me giggling. They all look at me in shock, surprised that I can find humor during what's clearly supposed to be a threatening interrogation. Calming myself, I flash Matt a genuine smile, "Thanks! Though I think you're a bit late to save my hearing…" I rub my ear in mock pain_ (although it really does hurt). _

Mello's about to say something yet again, when he suddenly looks towards where L's sitting. Something in L's expression must have convinced him otherwise, because Mello huffs before leaning back against the wall next to Matt. He pulls a chocolate bar out of his leather vest pocket. Flipping his blond hair back, he viciously rips the paper off and takes a bite.

Doing my best to ignore the chocolate-fueled glare coming from my right, I turn back to L. Raising an eyebrow in a silent question, he answers, "Please, continue."

I rest my elbows on my knees and lean forward, "Look, I promise I didn't trespass-" I hesitate a moment, before backtracking, "Well- at least, I didn't without knowing-" A derisive snort is heard from the grumpy side of the room.

_Okay Mello, I've had enough of your tough guy bullshit!_ I turn, fixing him with a glare so intense that he actually looks away. Having no time to revel in the fact that I just made _Mello_ avert his gaze, I allow my explanation to continue, "The last thing I remember was going to bed around 2 in the morning. The next thing I know, I'm waking up _in a tree!_"

The irritation of the day finally begins to catch up to me. My next words come out in a venomous hiss, actually causing Mello to flinch, "Do you really think that it's been fun for me to wake up TEN FEET OFF THE GROUND before being chased around and yelled at by the poster boy for leather-wear all damn day? After literally battling my way to freedom, I'm tackled to the floor, sustain some serious injury, and am now being questioned _for what could possibly be a bizarre kidnapping?!_"

At the end of this tirade, during which I had forgotten about everyone in the room except for the infuriating blond boy and myself, I realize that I'm shaking. Although I feel in control, a seed of panic blooms in my chest. It should be mentioned that in serious situations, my brain goes into a state of concentration during which it allows no anxiety to escape. _Ever since I woke up, my anxiety's been building and building,_ I realize. _Every angry word said to me, every uncomfortable scenario has been pushing me closer and closer to the edge of an inevitable breakdown._ My sharp gaze slackens, eyes darting down to the red cushion of the couch. My right hand clutches at my chest,_ Not here, not now!_

I uncross my legs, allowing them to dangle off of the couch in order to search my skirt pockets. My hands fumble desperately through the fabric, but find nothing.

The sound of silverware colliding with a plate is heard as L puts down his fork, temporarily pausing the slow demise of his pastry, "What is it?" Even in the middle of my panic, I can't help but think, _Geez, even when he's asking a question that indicates concern, he sounds like a robot!_

Although extremely unwilling to ask Mello for anything, my hair flies around me as I whip around towards him and Matt, "Did either of you take a medicine bottle from my pockets?"

Startled at the desperate look in my eyes, Matt's emerald eyes meet mine as he answers honestly, "No, you had nothing on you." His right hand releases his precious gameboy as he raises said hand, "Scout's honor."

My heart drops like a lead weight through my body. _My emergency anxiety meds- I always have them with me, __always__! It's for these situations when the panic strikes hard and fast_. I can feel myself paling considerably, _I'm in trouble._

My black skirt covers my feet as I move to stand- when a small, delicate hand wraps around my ankle. Jumping a little in shock, I look down at the hand that has my ankle in a surprisingly strong grip. My eyes travel from the slender white fingers to see Near for the first time.

Before him stands a large, intricate structure made entirely of dice, part of it disappearing around the corner of the couch. Near's long white pajamas hang off of his arms ad legs; wide gray eyes peering into mine. The sting of tears comes, unbidden, to my eyes as I see that his snow white hair forms a wild bush upon his head, almost exactly like my brother's. His gentle, musical voice has an air of concern, "If you stand, you're going to hurt yourself." _He sounds so much like him- _Between the stress of the day, the confusion of events, the anger of Mello, and this small boy's kindness… _all I want to do is cry._

In an attempt to calm myself, I take a deep breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see L studying me from under his mop of black hair (his cake momentarily forgotten) as well as the boys exchanging confused looks. Taking my time, I rest my elbows on my knees and interlock my fingers.

Without looking at the boy in question so as to avoid getting angry again, I ask as politely as possible, "_Please_, Mello, are you sure there wasn't anything at the base of the tree? Anything at all?"

Surprised at my politeness, he swallows his bite of chocolate and replies almost quietly, "No, there was nothing." He shakes himself out of the quiet spell, "But for God's sake, what the hell is it?"

I stiffen. Near looks up at me as he feels the tension through my leg to his hand. L's charcoal gaze also raises to my face, analyzing my expression. I keep my face stony as I slowly turn my hardened eyes towards the incredibly insensitive blond, _With that tone of derisiveness, there's no way he would accept my mental conditions._ I grit my teeth in anger at a few stray memories. Mello's eyes widen in surprise at the silent fury radiating off of my 5'1" form, _I've had enough of people dismissing me. _

The quiet volume of L's voice is welcome, but the information he supplies is that which I'd have preferred would stay private, "I'm assuming it's a medication for anxiety." I refuse to look at him, hoping against hope that he'd drop the subject. It's all for naught, "Your hands are shaking-" I will my clenched hands to stop shivering in fury and panic, but to no avail. "I have been able to deduce a few things about you, but I must admit I find some of it confusing." I finally turn back to him, _Something that the great L couldn't deduce and understand? I've got to hear this…_

L nods at my silent question of incredulity. Satisfied that he has successfully deflated the tension between myself and Mello, L goes back to dissecting his cake, "You clearly have some kind of illness that allows unconsciousness to come to you easily, whether you wish it to or not. You almost certainly have a high anxiety disorder if not something more serious due to the evidence of your skills in self-defense and defensive instincts." He finishes off the last bit of cake before plucking the strawberry off of the plate and examining it closely, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Why are you so nervous right now?"

Considering that I had gone on a tirade regarding my stress mere moments ago, I know that this is yet another ploy to gain information. He's hoping that he can use my anxiety to his advantage. _Anxiety tends to make anyone give more information than they would otherwise_. _Taking advantage of someone whom you already know is mentally ill? _I narrow my eyes at L, _A low blow, even for you_.

Sensing my tension, Near squeezes my ankle briefly to ground me. I look down at him and smile gently. I nod at him in thanks, affirming that I wouldn't be standing. Near nods seriously back, clearly forming a silent contract to bind me to my unspoken word. When I turn back to answer L, my expression is stone cold, "I'm sure that you already know."

L bites into his strawberry, clearly unperturbed (which makes my temper sky-rocket), "Hm… Well I'm sure that I have a good idea, but why don't you enlighten us all?"

My fingers clench tightly in my fury, my knuckles turning white, "So! As a quick sum up from what I _just_ said in case you all went temporarily deaf," I saying an attempt to communicate how stupid this line of questioning is, "I've been spirited away from my own home-" I begin to tick these off on my fingers, "plopped unceremoniously in an unknown location, chased around, bashed around by those here _despite not having harmed anyone_-" I whip my head back to Mello, "As well as trying to cooperate with _someone_ who seems hellbent _on fighting and yelling at me?!_" A light blush rises in the boy's cheeks, having the decency to look away, slightly ashamed.

Still breathing heavily from my new tirade, I'm surprised when I once again feel a familiar hand, but this time it rests atop mine. Looking down at Near, I notice that he isn't focused at me; he's concentrating at my white fists. I watch numbly as he slowly pries my fingers open. I look at my now bloody palms. I'm unsurprised to find that my fury escalated to a point where the pain of my fingernails digging into my palms wasn't felt, leaving bloody pools in the center of my palms.

There's an awkward silence as L finishes off his strawberry and I gaze uninterestedly at the eight crescent-shaped wounds upon my palms. L places the empty plate back upon the table before he speaks again, but a bit gentler, "That is, indeed, disturbing." He looks up into my eyes and I'm surprise to see- _regret? _I unconsciously tilt my head to the side a bit as I ponder: _Could he possibly regret that he has to work this way- has to ask these questions despite the moral incongruities of them? _His next statement seems to confirm my theory and allows me to forgive him, a bit, for his insensitive line of questioning.

"I believe you when you say that you have no idea how you arrived here. From everyone's accounts, you seemed far too surprised when they met you for your visit to be planned. The real mystery now is how did you get there?" L shifts his gaze over my shoulder, staring off into space as he considers this dilemma.

In the silence, Near's soft voice rises from the floor, "What's your name?"

I smile down at him, shoulders sagging in exhaustion, "M. My name is M."

The clicking from Matt's gameboy stops.

Noticing the change in sound, I look over at the boys who are both staring at me. Realization washes over me, _That's right! They only receive single letter names when they go into detective work where they need an alias! Having a name like 'M' automatically makes them think that I'm lying about my true identity._ I sigh, knowing that in order for them to believe me, I have to tell them some details about myself that I'd rather not have mentioned.

Since I'm not supposed to have knowledge of the system of their aliases, I smile slightly as I turn to L, "I know it sounds strange, but I'm a writer. I sign all of my works as 'M' which kind of turned into what I'm called by!" Since it's not a lie, L knows that I'm telling the truth. _He doesn't know that I'm aware of their secrets, but he knows that I'm not lying. The more truths I tell, as limited as they are, the more trust I gain._

L suddenly stands, shuffling in his too-long jeans over to the left wall. He opens a small closet, crouches down, and turns around with a first aid kit. So as not to disturb Near, L sits on my right and opens the box to reveal an arsenal of medical supplies that would have put any hospital to shame. As he picks up a clean white square of gauze, it suddenly dawns on me as to what he plans to do.

I smile and stutter in surprise, "N-no, it's alright! It happens all the time!" I keep my tone light, trying my best to wave off the injury. I clench my hands, holding back the urge to wince at the sting.

Clearly not believing me, L takes my left wrist in an inescapable grip. Bringing it towards his lap, L gently but firmly pries my fingers open. After dabbing up the blood with the square of gauze and cleaning it with disinfectant, he pulls out a roll of white bandages. As he wraps my left palm, I hear him quietly say, "If that's what you're called, then that's fine." I'm so shocked at the gentleness of his tone and the fact that he's accepting my statement without question that I have to resist the urge to hug him.

Focusing back on the event at hand, I'm definitely surprised. _I know Watari does this kind of thing; but I didn't know L even knew how to bandage a wound, let alone that he cares enough to do so!_ I allow a small smile to grace my lips.

Curious to see if the other boys are as shocked as me, I glance around the room. Near's eyes are wide as dinner plates, his hand stopped midway on its mission to place yet another white die atop one of his structures. Unwilling to stare blatantly at the other two, I have to gain information from out of the corner of my eye. Mello has stopped mid-bite of his precious chocolate, mouth gaping. As for Matt, I see-_ a knowing smile? _gracing his face. Catching my eye, he winks at me from beneath the mop of brown hair. I immediately look away, determined not to blush.

I'm so preoccupied by my own studies, I don't notice that L has wrapped both of my hands. He shuts the first aid kit before shuffling back towards the closet. After replacing the first aid kit, he settles back into his seat on the floor. He looks up at me, "If you'd like, we can find your home. However, until we find out how you got here, you must stay here." He waits for me to nod in understanding before he continues, "Where do you live?"

Deciding that there's no harm in telling them where I live, _Hell, they could actually help me find my way home,_ I say, "Albany, Virginia. Flower Shell Court."

L twists to bring a laptop from behind him, lifting it into his lap. There's a few moments of silence, _Well, as silent as you can get what with L typing away, Matt clicking on his gameboy, and Near stacking dice._

L suddenly stops typing and everyone listens in as his hooded, tired gaze slowly rises to meet mine. I can't help but notice a flash of confusion in his eyes. It takes me aback so badly that my stomach nots as to what he's about to say, "M… That location… It doesn't exist."

Silence.

I feel myself blink a few times before leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My shock is enough to convince everyone that I had not been lying about my address, but that does little to solve the problem. I hear bits of conversation, but don't comprehend any of it as the panic arises once again, with a vengeance.

_My city doesn't exist. My home doesn't exist._

Mello snorts, "How is that even possible?"

_My _**_family_**_ doesn't exist…_

L replies, but his voice is so- so distant, "I'm not sure, but I think M needs to rest now." I don't even flinch as I see L's bare feet stride into view beneath me.

_And I have no way to get back to them._

I continue to stare at the ground numbly, my hair almost reaching L and I's bare feet. My entire body shakes; it begins in my hands before moving through my arms, to my spine. _I can't control it- I need to get away from here!_ I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I stand on unsteady feet, their gazes suffocating me. The blackness rushes into my vision, but this time I find myself welcoming it.

Before I can make another decision, I feel myself being lifted from the ground. In the numbness supplied by my shock and stress, I don't resist despite not knowing who holds me. I do my best to hold back the shaking, knowing what will occur if it continues. I feel myself slipping into old memories that apparently will not stay buried.

I close my eyes and simply wish that I can wake up from this insane reality…

L walks into his own (unused) bedroom with M in his arms, black eyes gazing down at her pale face. He isn't concerned with the shaking, _Shock, no doubt,_ he concludes_._ His thoughts are mainly with his successors: _We need to discuss the events of today, as well as the drug-trafficking case._

"I'm sorry."

The quiet, fearful voice startles him. Knowing that no one else is nearby yet unable to believe that such a broken sound has come from such a strong girl, L looks down. Despite her brave facade throughout the day, silent tears run down her cheeks. She shivers, cowering into his white shirt as she repeats over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…."

Unused to this situation and unsure of what to do, L lays the girl in the bed before covering her with the thick black blanket. M curls into a ball under the covers, still crying.

L turns to leave, but hesitates. _Something just doesn't feel right about leaving her like this. I'm not sure what it is…_ The experience of the unknown is something unfamiliar to the detective, intriguing him enough to stay. The supposedly 'emotionless' L turns back to the strange girl and places a hand on her forehead.

He stands next to her bed and, after a few minutes of making his presence known via his hand on her forehead, her shaking begins to subside along with the broken apologies. L removes his hand almost… reluctantly… and shuffles towards the door.

Closing the door a bit behind him, he thinks back to her bold challenges with Mello, her daring escape, her almost successful fight with him, and the strange mutterings in her sleep. He walks towards the slightly cracked door, hands replaced in his pockets.

_An interesting intruder indeed…_


	6. Chapter 6 - Odds & Ends

**Author's Note:** I've been approached with concerns by a Ch1 reader. This isn't an attack on the reviewer, but an opportunity to address these concerns for like-minded readers.

Concern 1: I'm giving the story too much detail which is leading it to be too slow-paced  
><span>Concern 2:<span> "If she likes to be alone so much why does she have a best friend?"

**My Response:** Apologizes if this comes off as irritated, it's simply difficult to communicate emotions via typing.

Concern 1 Response: Some write fan fiction quickly in order to get their idea out. This means they focus mainly on the idea rather than details (which makes for quick action). That's perfectly alright for them, but I want a reader to feel like they're in the story, to know what's going through the character's minds, to understand the psychology of events, etc. The more details I add, the more convincing the story. Since this person had only read Chapter 1 (which is meant for laying groundwork), I ask them to give the ebb & flow of action a chance.

Concern 2 Response: I didn't write that she 'liked' being alone, but that her personality has caused society to shun her. Either way, everyone has _at least_ one friend or acquaintance. Wouldn't that friend (or 'friends' if a select few) by default make them her best friend?

In the end, if you aren't fond of my story, I understand; not every story or writing style is for everyone. All I ask is that you appreciate what I'm trying to accomplish (as read in statement above).

***I don't own Death Note, only my OC's***

**Chapter 6****- Odds & Ends**

I open my eyes before snapping them closed once again and rubbing my hands up and down my face, _Ugh… When am I going to wake up in a place I'm familiar with?_ Sighing, I allow my hands to flop down at my sides atop a thick comforter. The room is dark, but I can make out the edges of the bed from a bit of weak, uneven light streaming through a door across from me which stands open just ajar. The light is slightly blue and I can hear the faint buzz of electronics, _That must be L's monitor room._

I sit up (slowly this time), pleasantly surprised to find only a slight pang instead of a full-blown migraine. As I untangled my legs from the twist of black sheets and the comforter, a thought occurs to me, _The last thing I remember is being in the monitor room with the boys, trying to stand up… falling…_ I cease my tussle with the bedspread to look around the nearly pitch-black room, _Since this bedroom is attached to L's private room, that means this must be his bedroom. _I feel my face heat up and I'm unable to stop my throughs from continuing: _And that means that, more than likely, carried me here. _

Spine straight as a board, I merely listen to the slight hum of the electronics in the adjacent room. After a few moments, I bring my hands up, slapping my palms to my face, _That's enough of that! What was the last thing we talked about? _

After a few moments, I'm incredibly grateful I hadn't been standing when the memory returns to me. _My home, it's… gone…_ I clench the blankets in my hands, feeling a slight sting. The sting of the eight nail incisions from last night saves me from what would have almost certainly been a long time of wallowing in self-pity and fear. I frown down at my white knuckles, _I don't have time for this. The answer isn't going to come to me immediately, so I may as well adjust. _

Freeing my left leg, then the right, I turn to the edge of the bed. Slowly but steadily, I lower myself to the ground while firmly gripping the bedpost. My black skirt cascades over my feet, _Well, there's no need to escape now. Since I can't go home, this place is the best chance I have at surviving in this world. At least I know these people-_ I feel my eyebrows come together as the image of Mello's sneer crosses my mind. I resist the urge to shake my head, instead releasing a sigh,_ It'll do me no good to make enemies here, no matter how annoying they are. _

Confident in my balance, I turn towards the cracked door, _Only one thing to do now… _Stomach pitching in nervousness, I quietly tip-toe towards the adjacent room.

Holding my rat's-nest that I call hair back with a hand, I peer around the frame of the door. After a quick scan of the room, I notice that all of the successors are gone. Not able to see who I know must be in the room, I creep to the back of the couch. In front of the bright screens sits L. I note that, once again, he isn't crouching like he does in the anime. Instead, he sits with his left leg stretched out and his right bent to his chest; his right elbow rests lazily on his right knee.

I'm somehow distracted when I notice that Near's dice castle is gone. I lean precariously over the back of the couch (so far, in fact, that my feet lift off the floor), looking at the ground in front of the left armrest where Near had been sitting. _How did he manage to carry them all out of here? Mello wouldn't help him, but Matt would. Maybe Watari brought him a bag?-_

"How are you feeling?"

Startled, I lose my balance. I land face-first on the couch, legs still dangling over the back as my hair flies over my face. Cursing, I lift my head to look at the soft-spoken detective and release a puff of air to remove some hair from in front of an eye. His head is turned lazily over his shoulder, shaggy black hair covering his dark eyes that seem to shine with curiosity, _No doubt at this ridiculously uncoordinated mystery-person. Lord knows how long I was staring off into space just now!_ I frown at myself grumpily.

Bicycling my legs and pushing myself up with my hands, I land back on the floor, face flushed. I begin to fall backwards as dizziness assaults my brain from my concussion. Luckily my right hand catches the back of the couch. After a few moments, I brush my auburn mess from my face with a still-bandaged hand, "I'm good! All good!" I smile widely (and probably awkwardly) since L doesn't say anything.

I'm about to swear to myself that he _is_, in fact, smirking, when I spot a single die a bit under the couch to my left. Now a woman on a mission, I crouch down and retrieve the die that hides behind the edge of the couch leg. I kneel on the ground and hold the die up to the light of the monitor for L to see, "Where are the others?"

L shifts his unblinking gaze to the die between my fingers, "I dismissed them to bed. It was quite late by the end of our conversation last night."

I make a soft sound of affirmation before beginning to quietly laugh. I walk towards the confused detective. Narrowly avoiding the small table that previously hosted L's cake last night, I sit down next to him and interlock my legs, spreading my skirt over them with my hands. Dark eyes examine me as I explain myself, "I don't even know what time it is! It's strange," I turn towards him, slightly smiling and determined to not let his unwavering gaze get to me, "Out of all of the ridiculous things to happen to me, I'm disturbed most right now by the fact that I don't know the time."

L blinks. He stretches both legs out in front of him and leans back on his hands. His eyes gaze at the ceiling, but I know from experience that it's not really what he's seeing. We sit in a companionable silence for a few moments as I wait patiently for him to come out of his thoughts. _It seems like L tends to get lost in his own mind just like me,_ I think fondly.

After about 5 minutes, I decide that L probably has a case or something to figure out so I reach a hand over and gently grip his shoulder. I can feel the thin yet oddly muscular arm beneath my fingers as I shake him and say gently, "L? Come back to Earth, now…"

He finally blinks and turns his head back to mine. I realize that our faces are only a few inches apart, so I lean back as discretely as possible, praying to God that my face is staying a neutral color. He runs his eyes across my face, around my tangled hair, before finally stopping at my brown eyes. After a dazed moment, he finally speaks, "It's approximately 9:37 in the morning." He considers me for a moment, "What do you plan to do while you're here?"

I sigh and lay down on the ground, straightening my legs beneath my skirt. L looks down at me with an expression of confused interest. I bring the back of my right hand up to my forehead, dramatically complaining, "Well, if I stay in here for much longer, I'll go crazy!" I open one eye to look up at the shadowy detective, my voice shifting to a tone of sincerity, "Honestly, I'm not sure how you do it!"

His eyes widen at my antics before he turns back to the screens. He brings his thumb up to his lips with an bewildered expression that clearly states that he hadn't considered this point of view. Smiling, I raise my left hand high in the air to examine the die.

His soft voice finally comes out of his trance, "You may take a look around as long as someone accompanies you." I drop the die which lands on my nose, bouncing off to my left. After retrieving it and laying back down, I whip my head around. His eyes meet mine with a sly look, not turning his head. I narrow my eyes in mock suspicion, when in actuality, the emotion is quite real in my mind: _What are you up to? After my escapades yesterday you're oh so willing to allow me to have free reign of the house?_ L examines my face, watching me work through these thoughts, _No… He's thought this through. Even if I were to escape, he knows I don't have anywhere to go._

"But," L puts his weight on his left hand, leaning over me to pick up a teacup and matching saucer from the small table. I watch his careful movements (careful to keep my face expressionless) as he also picks up the sugar bowl, "I would like to ask you a few questions that we didn't get to last night." I roll my eyes, _Of course._

L settles back down and takes two boney white fingers and delicately snatches up a sugar cube. As it falls into the black coffee, I smirk at it's companions, _Sorry guys, but you aren't going to last long._ He suddenly turns to me, a slightly befuddled expression adorning his face. _It actually looks kind of… cute?_ "What?"

Trying to wave off my embarrassment, I simply smile wider and wave my hand casually in front of my face, "Nothing! Ask away!"

As I wait, L turns back to he sugar bowl, choosing another sugary victim. He begins slowly, "I feel that you may know more than you are divulging. For example:" His head whips back towards me, shockingly fast, in order to gauge my reaction. He speaks faster, as if he can't get the words out fast enough, "You haven't asked a single question about where you are, despite it clearly being a source of stress."

I allow my face only to relax into an expression of curiosity. I lift my head slightly to place both hands behind it in an attempt to be the picture of innocence. However, his question has made my stomach flop, _Crap! I knew I had forgotten something! Despite repeatedly saying that being here is stressful, I haven't exactly acted like it is. I can't act differently now or that would be even more suspicious!_

I stare up at the ceiling as I scramble for a response; he continues, "The question of your location would typically be the first question on anyone's mind, yet you haven't even asked who I nor anyone else is. You haven't asked where you are what I'm doing in a room that most would classify as strange. You haven't even questioned any of strange appearances or habits of those here."

Noticing that I'm not looking at him, L leans closer, almost hovering over me. _Geez, L, _I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I patiently meet his, _I know you aren't really aware of personal space but come on!_ "You just mentioned that you couldn't stay in here all day like I do. How do you know that habit about me? In face, your behavior towards everyone you've encountered-" His bottomless eyes gaze down at me with curious interest, "is that of someone who is already familiar with us."

I clench my hands tightly to resist the urge to fidget with my hair, I need to answer quickly before the silence becomes a confirmation of his suspicions. I lift the die above my head once again (almost smacking L's forehead, and analyze it), piecing together a response.

Attempting to divert his attention, even a little, I shift my eyes back to his. I then gesture towards the coffee, "Seems like we may be sitting here a while, don't let your coffee get cold."

L looks back at the cup and saucer, "Ah, yes. Thank you." I watch yet another sugar cube fall into his coffee, having successfully bought more time. After the next cube, I've come to a sufficient response.

Watching him delicately pluck another cube out of the bowl, I begin: "I suppose," I wince, _Yeah, 'cause all of the most convincing excuses start with the word 'suppose'-_ "I was so panicked at not being home that all I could really think about was getting out of wherever this is," I wave a hand at the room in general.

L takes a sip of his coffee, grimaces, and reaches for the bowl, "However, despite the situation, you reacted fairly logically under pressure." I lift my head slightly off the ground towards him, surprised at his praise. Long fingers delicately stir the coffee with a tiny spoon, "You planned the exact and only moment for your escape. You knew how everyone in the room would react to the sound of the door and acted accordingly." _Okay, this time I KNOW that the corner of his mouth is tilted up!_ "And then there was the incident of our little scuffle You, again, used the advantage of your knowledge regarding typically human reactions to trick me," L places his tiny spoon onto the saucer, "And believe me when I say that that is no small feat."

_I've known since I've had the knowledge that I'm at Wammy's that L must have had a camera in the room where I woke up. In fact, he probably had more. How else did he see where I was heading the hop the fence?_ I raise my eyebrows at him, "Quite the modest one, aren't you?"

Still smiling his oh-so-tiny smile, L brings the cup to his lips to test it yet again, "I simply believe in giving credit where credit is due."

I decide to give myself even further credibility as to my cluelessness. I tilt my head to the side slightly and ask with innocent curiosity (maybe a bit too innocent), "How do you know exactly what happened in the room when I ran?"

L gives the coffee a look that's so disappointedly sad that I kind of want to hug him, before answering, "I had Watari set up a laptop camera behind the couch you were laying on."

"Ah…" I hide a smirk, _You're starting to get predictable, L._ I sit up in order to answer the next question, "In response to not questioning the odd people here, I didn't ask because I didn't need to. I find that you learn more from quietly observing than stomping around, roaring for answers-" A certain blonde comes to mind. I shake my head, _Back to the question!_

"I can tell that those here are, well, different," This part of my response leads into some personal territory. I lift my hands to gently untangled my hair, piece by piece, as I continue a bit softer, "Near was stacking dice yet was able to tell that I was awake and was able to determine when I would strike Mello-" I turn to L quickly, "Sorry about that, by the way.."

L waves a hand noncommittally in my direction, clearly saying that it was no big deal.

I continue: "Mello has an… interesting… sense of fashion," I giggle a little, but don't catch L's reaction as I'm staring at my toes that peek out from under my black skirt, "and he's quite loud. However, despite these appearances, he's calculating and quite fast. Matt also has unique clothes and habits yet he has the, I'm assuming, rare ability to calm Mello analyze any situation."

"As for you," I turn slightly to L, taking in the entirety of his form: Half stretched out, one leg curled back up to his chest. Shaggy black hair in his dark, shadowed eyes, covering his parchment-like skin. White shirt and blue jeans hanging off of his skinny frame. All of this, while delicately placing cube after cube in his coffee. He looks up at me questioningly as I go on, "Your ability to recognize my anxiety, the fact that all of the screens are showing criminal profiles or security cameras, and your clear leadership over everyone- you're probably the most intelligent in this pace. I assume you work constantly because of the bags under your eyes and your skin is so pale that I doubt you've seen the light of day for a long time." L looks down at his own hand in wonder, as if he hadn't even noticed. "And you clearly have quite the sweet tooth."

I frown down at his cup and ask, "Hey, take a sip now."

L turns his eyes to mine before looking back at his coffee. He takes a sip and grimaces. I smile and ask, "Now, is it awful because of the lack of sugar or because you've spent so much time putting sugar in it that it's now cold?"

I look up at L's now narrowed eyes as he says grudgingly, "Fair enough…"

I laugh out loud, "Next time, you may as well save yourself some time and pain by just dumping the entire bowl in!" I lean over and pick up the bowl in front of him before tilting it upside-down to show him its empty contents, smiling broadly.

L doesn't seem to know what to make of me. His eyes are glued to my face, trying to see through to the gears that work my brain. He had jumped slightly when I had laughed, _Like the sound is foreign to him_, I think sadly. I smile and gently hand him the empty bowl, "To sum up, I learned long ago that judging on appearance is the quickest way to mistakes, confusion, and anger. So I do my best to give everyone a chance to present their real selves."

I have a feeling that L knows that I'm talking a bit further than in general, that it's more personal than I'm letting on, but says nothing about it. Instead, he places his cup down next to him. Leaning back on his hands, he turns to look at me, half of his face hidden in drastic shadow. He prods me further, "And what conclusions have you come to about this place?"

I look down at the die that's cradled in my hands, _Careful, now. I can't give him the impression that I know too much._ "After running through this place, I can assure you that it's quite large," I smile, "I also saw a large crowd of children in the entryway, most of which I'd guess would match the number of doors. However-" I look up from my die and jump a bit to find that L's face is quite close to mine, _I forgot about his habit of leaning closer and closer to things that interest him- wait, what?!_ Flustered, I stop my explanation before shaking myself and continuing as nonchalantly as possible (though I'm sure he caught my lapse of speech), "What a crowd of children and four seemingly genius people are doing in the same mansion is beyond me."

L slowly leans away from me, yet never blinking. After a few moments of intense scrutiny (during which I feel my insides squirm), he says hesitantly, "Since you're going to be here a while, I suppose there's no harm in giving you a bit of information." L looks up at the screens, but doesn't seem to really be seeing them, "This is Wammy's House. It's an orphanage for gifted children. Many of the children you saw are inventors, problem-solvers, young scientists, and mathematicians, artists, and more." My ears perk up at the mention of artists, but L continues, "A select few are chosen to be my successors. Mello and Near are currently tied for that position-"

"Aaaaw, poor Matt, why not hi-" I realize there's an extremely important question that I have to ask or my act of innocence will all have been for nothing. I turn to him, slightly less-tangled red hair, drifting slightly as I allow my head to dangle back slightly. I meet his eyes interestedly, "And who exactly are you?"

His spine stiffens almost imperceptibly as he turns his head to meet my gaze. I find myself unable to look away from the intensity of the glare, and after his response, I know why: "I am L. I solve the most difficult cases the world has to offer." _Wow,_ I exhale slowly, _He's really trusting me. Granted, I'm sure he's not going to let me out of his sight to betray him, but he's really telling me his secret. _

Catching onto the seriousness of his statement, my expression becomes just as serious serious, "I take it that this information is not to be shared ever to anyone outside of this place? From the sound of it, you're practically off the grid unless you choose not to be." L nods and I smile slightly, "That couldn't have been easy information to give me, thank you."

L's white face seems to darken, eyes wide with surprise. I sad thought comes to me,_ I wonder how many times people have actually said 'Thank You' to him…_

L clears his throat and turns back to the screen. He brings a thumb to his lips, "I'm glad you understand the importance of keeping this information quiet." He presses his thumb to his lips a bit harder as he moves on, clearly unsure of how to react to our little moment, "You, on the other hand, have a gift for reading people." I lift my head up straight, surprised at how quickly the subject had changed to me. "You know exactly what others are feeling and how to react to it. Like Near mentioned, you're also skilled in combat. I suppose in this case, the real question is," L's dark orbs flicker to the corner of his eyes, meeting mine, "Who are _you?_"

Flustered by the intensity of his gaze and the fact that he's thinking so hard about unravelling me, I almost fall backwards as I bring my hands forward and wave them back and forth in front of my face, "I-I'm nobody! I'm not smart! I really don't know what you're talking about!"

It's impossible to miss the small grin that slides onto L's face beneath his thumb, "So, you have low self esteem as well." He says nothing more, as if awaiting confirmation. I cross my arms and huff indignantly, fully prepared to lay into him about that topic, when there's a knock on the door. L reluctantly shifts his gaze from my face to the door, "Come in." I turn over and slightly army-crawl in order to peer around the edge of the couch.

Watari opens the door, a simple black bag in his hands. The room's so dark that he seems to be swallowed by the inky blackness towards the back of the room. He speaks past his neat white mustache, "The items you requested."

"Ah!" L clambers to his feet, placing his left hand in his jean pocket, "Thank you, Watari." He looks down at me, still sprawled on the floor, "M, that bag is for you. And this," L gestures his free hand in the gentleman's direction, "This is Watari. Watari, this is M. I believe you've met."

Watari smiles kindly, "Briefly, but yes." He turns to me, glass catching the flickering light of the monitors, "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

I realize that I've been sitting on the floor, staring like a moron this entire time. I stagger to my feet, concussion totally forgotten, "OhI'msosorry, the pleasure'smine!" Halfway through my rushed speech, the black haze comes rushing into the edges of my vision and I sway a bit. I make a grab for the arm of the couch at the start of my descent, but miss._ Crap!_ I brace myself, but am again surprised when one of the strong arms from last night wraps around my waist. _Eep!_ I'm immediately thankful that this exclamation had remained in my head, as well that the darkness hides my now red face.

I straighten up and automatically grip L's left shoulder for balance. As the black mist disappears, a low voice speaks in my ear, "You should be more careful." I swallow and nod, releasing L's shoulder. L steps away from me, but I can still feel his hand on my back. Since I'm facing away from the monitors, my face is in shadow,_ Thank God…_

Not turning to look at him, I apologize, "I'm sorry about that; thanks for the catch."

Watari's face has never been very expressive, but his snowy-white eyebrows are drawn slightly together in concern, "Are you alright?"

I stagger forward a bit, waving hand in front of my face in dismissal, "Yes, yes, of course, I'm fine!" I stop in front of him and bow slightly, _Wow, I've been watching too much anime_, "Thank you for asking! Peering through his glasses and over his impressive mustache, I can see that he doesn't believe me. Despite this, he smiles gently and hands me the dark bag.

Curious, I look through it a bit to see what looks like a change of clothes, a towel, toothbrush, etcetera. I look back up at the elderly gentleman and smile widely, "Thank you, Watari!"

Stunned by such an open smile, Watari chuckles a bit, "It's no trouble."

Not looking at L for fear that my face is still pink, I excuse myself to the bedroom. I fumble for the light switch before shutting the door behind me. Despite the light, it didn't make the room any brighter. Everything is black or grey, _Come on L, a little color won't kill you!_ I smile a bit before spotting a bathroom to my left.

Walking inside, I'm met with a room of blinding white; my only respite is the golden-colored knobs on the sink, the dials in the shower, the shower head, and golden trim between the tiles. _Once again, L, __color__!_ I think as my eyes adjust. _Regardless, this room has a shower and that's all I ask for! _After instinctively locking the door, I place Near's die on the counter, resolving to return it to him later.

After using the utilities, I peel off my clothes, unwrap my hands, and step into the shower. Turning the water up to almost boiling hot, I smile as I see that all of the soap is strawberry-scented. As the water reaches my hands, I wince as the eight cuts on my palms sting; nonetheless, I make sure that I clean them.

I spot a creme-colored towel as I step out of the shower. Stepping back in as to avoid soaking the floor, I dry myself off. After wrapping the towel around my torso, I quickly find a hairbrush in the black bag. I gently brush all of the tangles out of my hair, _Which is really saying something,_ I think as I yank at a particularly nasty tangle (despite all of the conditioner I had used).

Wrapping my hair in the towel, I dig through the bag to look for some clothes. Pulling out the clothing, I feel myself blush a little after checking the tags, _How the hell do they know my size?_ I try not to dwell on this too much as I slip into the simple undergarments… I hold up a long, flowing red skirt. The bottom displays a black stitched aztec-like pattern. I smile broadly, _I love it!_ Donning the skirt, it falls to gently brush the top of my feet. Before I can forget, I place Near's lonely die in the pocket.

Still excited from the skirt, I pull on the loose black shirt that reaches mid-thigh without looking at it- and freeze. _It's sleeveless._ Investigating the other shirt in my bag, I see that it's no better in regards to solving my dilemma. The other set of clothes is a set of loose lack pants that billow out before scrunching up above the ankle and yet another sleeveless (although this time red) shirt, identical in appearance to the first.

My mind begins to panic, _What do I do? I can't wear this! I can't let them see- Wait, the first aid kit! I know there's till some gauze in there, I'll just use that!_ I sigh, running a hand through my long, damp hair, _It'll look suspicious, but what other choice do I have?_

Although anxious, my plan is set. I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before examining myself in the mirror. In the reflection I see a girl with sharp cheekbones, bright brown eyes, and rose-colored lips, but I flinch away. I've always hated my appearance; in fact, I had been trained to. I think back to what my psychologist said, "You've been told it since you're birth, everyday. If It's been said so many times, that it's become your reality. We need to break that 'reality'." I sigh to myself, hand on the mirror, _If only I could…_

Despite my best attempts, I can't find a hair tie. I shrug, _Oh well, I'll just have to find one. At least my hair's damp enough that it won't soak my clothes._

After stuffing all of the clothes back into the black bag, I return to the bedroom. Reaching a corner, I dump out all of the clothes onto the floor. Putting the dirty clothes back into the bag, I place the black bag in the corner. Folding up the extra outfit, I placate on top of the bag. _Mental note: Ask Watari if I can use the washer. _

I straighten up, excited to explore the mansion and the personalities of my favorite characters- when I come to a stop before taking a single step. Am inevitable thought occurs to me that I soon wish never did: _Are they… afraid of me? I trespassed into their sanctuary, I attacked L, I struck Mello, they know nothing about me… _A twinge of guilt grips my heart, only giving me more reason to try to interact pleasantly with everyone. Determined to make a better impression, I straighten up and allow my face to relax into an easy smile.

Despite this external demeanor, I'm currently recalling the layout of the room beyond the door I stand before in order to retrieve the gauze as soon as possible before L can see anything. I inhale, exhale, _Okay, go!_

I open the door and casually, but quickly, stride to the closet. My red skirt swishes back and forth. I hold my right arm as casually as possible towards the left side of my body, in shadow of the flashing monitors. I refuse to look in L's direction, although I know he's watching me with curiosity. I quietly open the closet door, kneel down, and open the first aid kit. As I dig through the box, I hear, "Are you in need of assistance?"

_Aw, that's awfully kind of you, L!_ I throw a smile over my shoulder, leaving my hands to blindly fumble with the box, "I'm alright! Nothing I can't handle!" I turn back to find my prize. I wrap the gauze around both forearms before separately wrapping both palms. _Around and around and around…_ careful not to get my dangling auburn hair caught under the wraps.

I hear only silence as I finish wrapping up my arms. Feeling a little guilty, I look to make sure that I haven't taken too much from the kit. _Wow, I could treat an entire neighborhood with what's in here!_ I put the rest of the gauze back. Shutting the lid as quietly as possible (hoping L has lost interest), I replace the box back into the closet. I close the doors and slowly stand up in order to keep my balance.

Turning around, I see that I have no such luck; L is watching me with interest. _Aw man…_ I nonchalantly bring my arms behind my back, my right hand clutching my left wrist. I wince as the injuries on my right palm stings. I smile again, not meeting L's eyes, "I'm gonna go look around now!" I quickly stride towards the door, the black material of my skirt brushing softly against my legs.

"M."

Although I knew he was going to stop me, I freeze mid-step. I turn on my single foot back towards L. He's moved, now leaning against the back of the couch. His face is in shadow, only sharp cheekbones, wide eyes, and silhouettes of his jawbone and hair visible. I look into those eyes, _That expression… It's- sad,_ so sad that it almost breaks my heart, _It's almost as if he already knows…_ I refuse to look down at my arms as I wait for his next words. There's a pregnant pause where L seems to internally struggle with what he wishes to say, before he sighs, looks down at the floor, and says, "Please remember to have someone with you at all times."

I release a breath I was unaware I had been holding. I'm overcome with a wave of gratefulness, but not just because he didn't ask about my behavior, _L isn't locking me up like I expected; to the contrary, he's trying to help me despite the fact that I'm a stranger intruding into his home. He's trusted me with his identity yet will still allow me to leave this room._

Going against all codes of my anxiety, I turn completely back, walk towards him, and wrap my arms around him. I feel him stiffen in surprise as I lean my head upon his chest. I release him and turn back to the door, hair floating upon the air and skirt flying over my feet. Not looking back, I say, "Thank you, L." I turn the doorknob, open the heavy door, and make my exit.

In the wake of M's departure is silence for minutes. I stare, wide-eyed at the door. I can still feel the embrace of her thin arms around me, an inexplicable feeling in my stomach. I shake my head and turn back towards the monitors, "Maybe I need more cake…"


End file.
